Bluestar's Message
Welcome to the more exciting part of the bargain! If you're here, it means you've read and familiarized yourself with the rules, and are thus ready to be clued in on the raw story of the Clans' devastating downfall through a brief, yet important dream from Bluestar. Commit her words of wisdom to mind, for it is a means of walking into the roleplay knowledgeable! Our Story: Bluestar Reminisces Hello there, young cat. I can tell you're puzzled about the reason you're here, wondering why I am speaking up to you from hunting grounds you're scarcely familiar with. Flatten your fur, however, for I mean no harm to you. You see, the forestry you're eyeing right now is StarClan territory, always secure and rich in nature. Ah, you suspect we're mere hallucinations, that the scenery is all but a figment of your imagination? Well, I suppose I could go with that—I'm only here to tell you our story, after all. I don't believe you'll remember I walked your dreams when you awaken, which I suppose is a plus. Sorry, did I forget to introduce myself? I am Bluestar, once a leader of ThunderClan generations before you were born. During my leadership, I stood alongside the heads of RiverClan, WindClan, and ShadowClan. These Clans do not exist at all now, eroded by the works of time, but they were once one of the most feared forces in the forest. I can see the skepticism clearly in your eyes. You think I must have dandelion fluff in my ears, and suspect me of rambling about bands of felines you never once heard of in your youthful lifespan. I say this with firm resolution: do not judge just yet. Sit down under this cool patch of willow and allow me to relay the horrific events that led to the Clans' downfall . . . The Cause It all started in a fateful leaf-bare. ThunderClan was running low on numbers, tensions between RiverClan and ThunderClan were piqued, and StarClan was as cold as stars. Sunningrocks was a hub of dispute between the two Clans, and that all but weakened us. Usually, leaf-bares were a menacing threat every season, but a faction of our Clanmates was already wiped off due to a wracking illness; I knew we couldn't afford more losses. Still, StarClan was silent. I almost went mad with despair. If StarClan had given up on us, did that mean my Clan was on the brink of a great starvation I couldn't save it from? The responsibility was suffocating. One night, when I was taking a stroll with the medicine cat at the time, Spottedleaf, I was ready to spill all my worry, anger, and despondency. I was ready to give in to the harrowing reality: we couldn't win this. Then a star shot itself across the sky, clear as day and vivid as as Moonstone. I was puzzled, but to Spottedleaf the answer was clear. Fire alone will save our Clan, she'd murmured softly, prompting a rush of unwonted expectation into my veins. From that day on, I analyzed every sun-scorched fern, burned tussock, and winking spark for a sign that would further the prophecy. I even interacted with my Clanmates much more, wishing to find in them the placeholder of such an ominous, but crucial message. Yet only when Whitestorm, Lionheart, and I stumbled on a flame-pelted kittypet of sharp, intelligent eyes did I realize the answer lay not within my Clan, but along its borders. I was hopeful in Firestar—fond of him as if he were my son, even. But I was careful not to show this, not even to him. My Clanmates were already skeptical, and I myself possessed my doubts. I didn't want to grow favoritism for him, and neither did I strive to pamper him into never fully experiencing the life of a warrior. As the savior of the Clan, he should be able to survive hardships average warriors endured on a daily basis. And he did. Despite his rough integration, he hadn't once failed me . . . Not until I'd died. He'd exposed Tigerstar; he'd caused his exile; he even wisely chose my beloved nephew, Whitestorm, as deputy and earned StarClan's respect after a lengthy epoch of mistrust in my choice. I couldn't have been prouder. Then the battle came. LionClan, composed of ThunderClan and WindClan, eyed down TigerClan (ShadowClan and RiverClan). BloodClan was eventually unshared in by TigerClan. LionClan had fought with all its might, and still it couldn't parry the malignancy with which TigerClan rebuked. Everything was going the way it wasn't supposed to go. Firestar's forces lost. The battle killed with it everyone I held dear. The Effect Looking down on the havoc such a minuscule error caused, I will forever blame myself for the Clans' downfall. Had I caught on Tigerstar's ulterior motives—had I relied on myself rather than Firestar—perhaps the Clans would still exist. Yet they still lost the Great Battle. Firestar had begged the other Clans' leaders to echo his steps out into the city and attempt reuniting there, but by then his popularity had sharply declined due to the empty promises about security he'd once yowled confidently, and he only earned cold, acidic shoulders. Leopardstar and Tallstar, who might have confined in him, had been killed far before, so that Tigerstar and Scourge earned a bastion in RiverClan and WindClan. Not only did they succeed, but they bent ShadowClan into submission. They'd established much more strength than Firestar ever had the chance to. He'd lost. In the end, a small group of loyal ThunderClan warriors tailed Firestar out, where they all went to reside with SkyClan following a feeble sign from StarClan. This was the warrior ancestors' last gasp of breath to reconcile with their descendants, and were never heard from again. Some of the felines successfully assimilated into the SkyClan culture, but others divided the two Clans with their refusal to conform. Their relations have slightly improved today, though subtle prejudice still exists. ThunderClan could never forget the heritage it lost. Meanwhile, Tigerstar and Scourge had ruled the other three Clans in the forest, but the former's leadership was transparent. The fool was distrustful all his life, yet he embraced the first rogue leader that ever spared him a second glance! In the end, Tigerstar deserved to be slaughtered by Scourge. How, you might ask? I'll tell you: Scourge had tricked Tigerstar into thinking they would share their victory, only to ambush him when he wasn't watching, ensuring he'd demonstrate the best of humiliations in the process. RiverClan, ShadowClan, and WindClan had faded in consequence, forced to morph into BloodClan under Scourge's bloodthirsty reign. Not only that, but Twoleg monsters invaded seasons later, destroying what was left of the Clans' trail; the former Clan cats, cruelly termed BloodClan at the time, had to flee into the city, where even that label was washed away with their disintegration, and all Clanners turned loner or rogue. The longer generations were made, the less reminiscence there was of the Clans, until their memory was utterly wiped off. Even StarClan is no longer uniform. We all turned against each other, pointing tails at our inefficiency to convey the lethality danger to the four Clans—the former four Clans. Do you realize how much my heart aches to see them like this? There are no longer Clans, no longer forest territories. There is nothing but discord, a shell of what we once were. Ah, dawn is approaching, and with it runs out our time. Come close, little one, for only your senses will absorb such an outrageous confession from me. No warrior within the great meadows of StarClan would believe this, even if they heard it with their own ears. I might even deny uttering such an absurdity as well, should you ever probe my bitter colleagues about it. But every time I brood over the night sky, I always wonder if there's a chance yet. If there is hope. I beg you to tell me—is there a way our Clans can be restored, reformed? Can the Clans be reborn?